burns on his back. Stop thinking about him, Sara, I mentally yell at myself, no good ever comes out of thinking about him.
I lay on my big, beautiful bed and look at the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. I need to stop daydreaming and come up with a kickass plan of attack for when I meet this bastard, Will. I should’ve asked more details about him from Em. Unless he takes his drawers off, I really have no clue what the fucker looks like. Maybe I should ask him to send me a picture to refresh my memory, I think as I start giggling. He’d know for sure that someone who’s not Emily is fucking with him behind those texts. I’m an attorney, I’m sure I can figure this out. How hard can it be to spot a poor fool looking for a woman?
I decide that it’s better for me to wait for him at the lobby cafe, and watch to see who enters. I will leave Jeff’s name and a key at the check-in counter. My plan seems solid; if he looks too mental, I’ll just call security and abort the mission. He has no idea who I am and what I look like. No one will know and we’ll all live miserably ever after. The End.
I decide this undercover rendezvous calls for my black Gucci one shoulder cocktail dress paired with the black Louboutin Pigalle heels. I finger dry my hair, add a little blush, gloss, perfume, and off I go to help my best friend rid herself of Will “The Problem Intruder” Knight. I was there when Emily fell in love with Louis Bruel. I know what he means to her and what those two have; it’s not something that a stranger from St. Lucia is going to ruin with a book and some photos. My best friend almost lost her husband a month ago. I will not let this parasite try to destroy them. I will make sure he leaves Emily and Louis Bruel alone if it’s the last thing I do. I owe her that…
“Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club
The pompous fucker is some kind of shareholder in this bloody hotel. Maybe he bought stock in the hotel when he found out I was staying here. I don’t have many belongings with me, I didn’t even pack an overnight bag when I got on the jet to bring Emily back home to her dying husband. I’ve been waiting for her to call me, text me, bloody anything for the past forty-one days. I’ve been this close to speaking with her twice. She’s just always either with him or her children. Stupid idiot, she has children, go home! my head keeps nagging at me. He’s alive, she loves him, she chose him, and I need to let her live her life. If she thinks he’s good to her, why am I still bloody here? Maybe people change. I try to convince myself of that, knowing just how false the notion is. I wish Isa had found a guy that was good to her, that wanted to change for her. I swallow the big lump in my throat that my thoughts have conjured up.
I sit on a lonely bench by the main entrance of The Pierre Hotel while I wait for my car to arrive, attempting to map out a plan. I should just arrange a flight back home and call it a day. Forget New York, forget Emily, forget Louis and just let sleeping dogs lie. I haven’t officially been back to London since Isa’s funeral. I did come back unofficially for a few hours to announce my engagement to my parents only to find out my fiancée has been sucking off my best mate on a daily basis for years, therefore ending our silly engagement before anyone even knew. Serves me right for going after his fit secretary. Jason always bragged how Brandy is a godsend and helps him think clearer. Bullocks, to think I almost married a woman that works on her knees for someone other than me. Can a bloke’s life be any more fucked up? I snicker at my pathetic existence. I actually feel nothing for Brandy, we had nothing but good sex, really good sex. I don’t need to marry someone for good sex; I can pay for that. I want what money can’t buy. If I had one wish right now, and the choice to bring Isa back wasn’t